


It's Been Ten Years...

by Harsley



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2134698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harsley/pseuds/Harsley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and Mickey's still dealing with Ian's stupid shit. Partly inspired by a scene in the Sex and the City movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been Ten Years...

Mickey diced tomatoes, aware of the melancholic redhead sitting across from him. He ate one as he addressed Ian,

“What's wrong?”

Ian only shakes his head and stole piece of avocado from the plate of fresh vegetables his boyfriend was cutting up. After being together on and (occasionally) off for ten years, Mickey could finally say they were stable. His little job as a mechanic had expanded to him owning his own custom bike garage on the northside. He had a lot of big shots come through wanting only the best. They helped him pad his pockets enough that he and Ian had been looking for a bigger place than the studio they shared now. The new place they found was awesome; skyline view of Chicago, close to the top floor, indoor saltwater pool. Absolutely nothing to complain about yet Ian was sitting here looking like someone had run over his dog.

“Come on, Ian, what's wrong,'' Mickey bribes. “Fajitas are your favorites.”

“Nothing,” Ian lies as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“You want steak instead of chicken?”

Ian forces a smile as he fidgets in his seat. Now, Mickey's getting nervous; a familiar feeling since he made things official with Ian. His life was now made of worrying if Ian was taking his meds, if Ian was too stressed out at work, if Ian got enough zinc. It was fucking ridiculous. When Ian shuts down like this, Mickey's mind jumps to the worst conclusion.

“You fuck someone else?” Mickey asks bluntly.

Ian slams his hand on the table. “Are you kidding me? You really think that about me? Still? After all we've been through?”

“Okay then tell me what I'm supposed to think, Ian. How am I supposed to handle you when you're like this.”

“I'm your boyfriend. I don't need to be handled.”

“Then talk to me like I'm your boyfriend.”

“Okay, you wanna know what's wrong? You bought that apartment.”

“And?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “So it's your apartment.”

“It's our apartment, shithead.”

“No. it's your apartment. You bought it. Your name's on the deed.”

“That's because you put all your money into buying that bar with Kevin and Lip.”

“So you think I shouldn't have bought that bar?”

“Ian, you can do whatever the fuck you want as long as you don't take it out on me at home.”

The smell of burning meat hit Mickey's nose and he turned off the heat trying to salvage his dinner. Fuck it. He threw the pan in the sink and reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer. He turned to Ian, trying to lighten the mood.

“At least we have the vegetables. And the liquor.”

Ian only shrugged again This pity party shit was getting out of hand.

“You're gonna have to meet me halfway here, man,” Mickey tells him.

So Ian does. He goes over to Mickey and slips his arms around his boyfriend's waist and peppers kisses on Mickey's head, his ear, his jawline.

“Can I say something?” Ian whispers into the older man's ear. “And you can't call me a fag or queer or anything else straight from the mouth of Terry Milkovich?”

“Somehow I think straight is the wrong word,” Mickey laughs as he gives Ian a quick kiss on the lips. “What is it?”

“I want to build us a home together.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I mean... us Gallaghers are fucked up but we have a place that we can always go back to. I want that for us. You. Me. Yevgeny, even.”

Mickey loops his hands through Ian's as he says, “We will, Ian.” 

“But what if we move into this place and you get sick of me?”

“I've been sick of you and your shit for the last ten years.” 

“Come on, be serious. If you wanted to kick me out, I would have to leave. It's not like we're married or anything.”

“Is that it?” Mickey holds Ian at arms length as he studies him critically. “You want to get married?”

“No...” Ian says slowly. 

“I can call a priest, get him down here.”

“No?”

“Are you sure you're sure because,” Mickey digs in his back pocket and produces a Tiffany's blue box, “Debbie helped me pick out this fucking thing and it cost a fortune.”  
Ian opens up it cautiously and finds a simple platinum band. He doesn't know how long he stares at it, trying to make sure it's real but eventually he looks back at Mickey who is uncharacteristically quiet, staring down at his feet. 

“How long have you had this?” Ian asks finally.

“Bout a month,” Mickey admits.

“A month. You've been holding out on me for a fucking month?”

“I was scared. I mean, what if you said no?”

“Well, I'm saying yes.” Ian took the ring out of its box and slipped it on his ring finger.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

They never made it around to eating the fajitas. They did make it to bed however. Somehow they always ended up there. And after, when Ian slung an arm over Mickey's chest before they went to sleep, the ring glinted off the moonlight. It was almost romantic.

**Author's Note:**

> youdontfuckangie on tumblr


End file.
